


Quotes from 18 B.C.

by suisseconfiture



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Philosophy, domestic saschanos, sascha's an asshole but stef's a baby so it works, souvlaki, thanks twitter!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suisseconfiture/pseuds/suisseconfiture
Summary: Sascha hates the philosophical quotes, and Stefanos hates being judged for the philosophical quotes.





	Quotes from 18 B.C.

**Author's Note:**

> blame twitter for this ( looking at u anna & tahlia )

 

The door opened and closed behind Sascha, stepping in from the hallway and setting the brown bag of breakfast down on the table.

 

"Stef!" He shouted, hoping he'd be up by then. "I got breakfast!"

 

Sascha took the bagel and green salad out of the bag for himself, turning to rummage through the fridge for cream cheese and caesar salad dressing.

 

Distantly, he could hear the slight shifting of the wood flooring until they stopped at the dining table. 

 

"Did you get my avocado toast?" Stefanos asked, the bag being louder than him as he was trying to find said toast. 

 

"Yeah, it's at the bottom," Sascha spoke as he finally acquired his necessary breakfast accessories, turning around and nearly dropping them on the floor at the very sight of him. "Jesus Christ- why the hell are you naked?!"

 

Stefanos blinked a few times, before frowning with a slight glare in Sascha's direction. "Uh, rude, this is who I am. Clothes are just a layer to hide who you are and I'm just being me. I thought you wouldn't mind."

 

Sascha didn't wait to take his jacket off and throw it at him. "Well you thought wrong, get some fucking clothes on."

 

The Greek mimicked his words silently in something of a childish way, but complied with the jacket around his shoulders. 

 

He walked off in a huff. 

 

Coming back after around three minutes, Stef was dressed in Sascha's shirt and sweatpants.

 

Sascha didn't bother getting onto him about it.

 

It was better than him walking around like their apartment were a nudist beach. 

 

__

 

Later that evening, after the no clothing fiasco, they sat on the couch opposite each other. 

 

Sascha was watching tv and Stefanos was on his phone, likely writing in his notes all the faux-philosophical captions that he could find on Google. 

 

"Stef." 

 

The Greek responds with a small hum of acknowledgement.

 

"What do you want for dinner?" Sascha asks as he looks at the younger man.

 

"It's up to you," Stef shrugs his shoulders, glancing over at the German, "The only thing that matters is that we eat together, it gives me the semblance of normalcy in my crazy world."

 

Sascha just stared at him, briefly parting his lips to say something but he had to pause for a moment. 

 

"...I just asked you what you wanted to eat." 

 

Stefanos groaned loudly, almost like it pained him to decide.

 

"Can we just get souvlaki?"

 

"Yes, we can, just no more quotes please."

 

"You're such a hater."

 

"Do all of your haters buy you souvlaki for dinner?" 

 

Stefanos pursed his lips briefly before clicking his tongue. "...No." 

 

Sascha rolled his eyed and stood up, grabbing his jacket; but it left his hands before he had a chance to put it on.

 

The Greek put the stolen jacket on zipping it up and putting his hands in the pockets.

 

"I hate you." 

 

"I love your jacket." 

 

Grumbling, Sascha got a different jacket that was discarded in the coat closet and put it on. 

 

They both left to acquire the coveted souvlaki. 

 

__

 

At around ten, they both got ready for bed. Sascha always finished before Stef, so he sat in bed with his eyes fixed on his text messages. 

 

It didn't take Stefanos long to join him, getting under the covers and laying with his back to him.

 

Sascha looked at him with something of a smug smirk on his face. He could tell Stef was still irritated with him. 

 

"Don't tell me you're still angry."

 

"Fine, I won't tell you." 

 

"Oh my god Stef," Sascha laughed as he put his phone on the nightstand, leaning over to look at his face. "What if I told you that I'm sorry?"

 

"Doesn't mean you're sorry."

 

"What about souvlaki?"

 

"Souvlaki doesn't mean you're sorry, either."

 

"Would Greek pizza mean that I'm sorry?"

 

"Chocofreta, or you're still an asshole." 

 

The German sighed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

 

"Fine." 

 

__

 

Sascha listened, he found a box of Chocofreta at the shop by some stroke of luck.

 

He hated when Stef got all annoyed and started to ignore him.

 

Stefanos woke up to find one bar of it on the nightstand, Sascha knew because he walked out with a big smile on his face and the chocolate in hand.

 

However, the smile didn't last long.

 

Sascha threw the rest of the box at him, accidentally hitting him in the face with it. 

 

Unfortunately, Sascha couldn't run as fast as Stefanos could throw and the very same box got him in the back of the head. 

 

Even Sascha could admit, he kind of deserved that. 


End file.
